


gimme that nectar

by junesangie



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bloating, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Hotel Sex, M/M, Stuffing, and calling him sexy, feederism, he’s just giving him puppy eyes the whole time, sort of??, this is just self-indulgent kink fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junesangie/pseuds/junesangie
Summary: shame settles, thick and nauseating, in the pit of a rumbling stomach before yeosang glances up at the perfect moment. a sugared smile cracks the shell; his lover’s agreement is all he requires.the plan is simple: push the food past his lips until he’s absolutely irresistible.
Relationships: Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	gimme that nectar

**Author's Note:**

> lighte is BACK, everyone!! so—like the notes say—this is SO self-indulgent, but hey, new seongsang content, right? this is a big kink for me, so i hope those who read this enjoy!

“Hyung…I don’t know about this.”

“Nonsense.” 

Dark, catlike irises flicker with an expression Yeosang can’t easily focus on, too drunk on the exhilaration of his promise and yet _still_ protesting because he can’t believe this is even about to happen. They won’t have any trouble covering the noise tonight, won’t need to bother the other members because they’re all late in settling in with swapped-up roommates at the hotel this week—it’s the perfect time to carve out a chunk of time for the two of them. He’s shocked at the luck they’ve acquired, even more so that his hyung was able to explain their sudden change in typical purchases. He usually wouldn’t care, but tonight is special. Tonight is something they’ve awaited for almost six months now, and he’s thrilled, but he hopes the elder knows how far to push him.

He’s into this much more than Seonghwa knows. And hopefully, if he lets him, they can crash right through the barriers. They can stave off, skirt around, avert their gazes from the glaringly obvious, but neither have any spoken boundaries tonight. It’s all or nothing, and Yeosang is determined to offer up any piece of himself that hasn’t been ravished before.

Letting a breath roll shaky from his trachea, vigilant eyes trace the shapes outlined by plastic shopping bags, allowing himself to embrace the hunger that’s been pinching at his guts all day. He’ll need to tap into those past twelve hours with hardly any food, the dizziness he doesn’t believe should ever be second nature to battle with—the way he nearly blacked out simply making his way around the city today. Accompanying Mingi today was a bad decision, given how easily he realized when something was wrong. But it was his choice, and it surely wasn’t happening again for a while, so while his stomach growled from beneath his hoodie, both of them swept it into oblivion after the single offhand comment. Even Wooyoung hadn’t teased nearly as much as he’d fretted when his friend skipped dinner, but the worry was all for nothing. He’d be fed well tonight, in more ways than one.

Folding both legs into a pretzel, Yeosang swallows the somewhat bitter flavor coating his tongue, transfixed as a long-fingered hand reaches into the vibrance concealed by a slightly-translucent shield. “Hyung,” he says again, but it’s not unsure. He was told to be upright about his needs tonight, and yet the only thing he seems to know is a question. Something he probably knows the answer to already.

“Mhm?” Seonghwa nearly withdraws a gold-capped container, then pauses to let it go once Yeosang speaks. “What is it, Yeosangs?” Tone gentle, softened to breakable delicacy, the mood shifts in a more apprehensive direction. The younger is rubbing at the edge of his sweater, tugging it out, hoping this doesn’t sound too stupid in front of the person who suggested this in the first place.

A second, deeper inhale. Then pale branches twining with the blond’s own as weight evens out on this edge of their bed. “Are you really sure about this? Like…you’re still into it?” Ponytail brushing against the nape of his neck, he squeezes the only steady tree rooting him without complaint. _So patient,_ he thinks. _How does he manage this?_ “I-I know you wanted to do this, but I just wanted to—”

“Hey.” Babbling again, it’s obvious he’s nervous, not only for the possibility of it being not as pleasurable but for _Seonghwa_ not being satisfied as he will be. A second palm grazes along his cheek, then toward his jawline to cup his face by one side, large hand already offering a hiding place for a quarter of Yeosang’s face. “I want this. And I want to make sure you’re ready, too. Are _you_ sure about this, baby boy?”

The words, specifically those final two, transform his bones to gelatin and every last muscle to rich, steaming fudge. “Y-yes. _Yes,_ please…I—”

“It’s okay.” His thumb strokes beneath the younger’s fluttering lashes, as if swiping imaginary tears like he’d done just three days prior, and he stands to finally retrieve the first treat that begins Yeosang’s feast. “You can tell me when to stop, if you have to,” he reminds them both, though it’s clear now through both demeanors that they aren’t going to cease for any intentional purpose. Not now, not with so much time, so much opportunity to explore this growing interest. Perhaps the main reason is that Seonghwa is withdrawing a pint of ice cream from the bag first, and then a metal spoon packed away after they had returned to the hotel, planned to enhance the chill for his taste buds—but of course neither would admit to such a thing.

He’s ready. He’s ready, and the only reminder is lust gradually slithering like mist beneath the door, filling the air and his chest to bursting. _Just like I’ll be._ Yeosang waits for his hyung to approach him before pulling off the hoodie, insides growling in protest to the faint scent of ice cream wafting toward his nose. 

“Now?” comes the inquiry, Seonghwa settling in beside him as a gentle twist has the top removed, plastic tab peeled back like the gift wrap to a particularly expensive present, revealing to them a swirl of ruby and ivory, gorgeously punctured by bullets of dried cherries and pecans. 

The sight alone is mouthwatering, but he isn’t sure if that’s from clouded deprivation or his rational mind. “Ready,” he whispers, and it’s like the wave envelops them with the birth of one word from subsidence.

Scooping into the dessert, they’re shocked to find it softer than expected. Fairly creamier compared to the usual, Seonghwa wastes no time sending the spoon to Yeosang, plush lips surrounding the utensil’s head and popping off just a second later, wiped clean of any evidence. There’s a quiet moan as he swallows, but neither really pay much attention, a second bite prodding its way past his teeth to be consumed. His Adam’s apple bobs, breath bubbling with excitement when the elder plants a kiss at the corner of his mouth, licking away the touch of missed vanilla.

They continue like this, spoon-feeding with unspoken promise of a much more heated aftermath in mind. Halfway through, Seonghwa is barely able to control himself as Yeosang sucks the spoon clean, jeans becoming increasingly tighter and more difficult to sit still in as a noticeable erection grows—yet he waits. He’s prepared to wait for the prize, but only when the credentials meet the standard of a certain young man whose stomach seems to be bloating just slightly out from his midsection. There’s still the second half a pint to go, he thinks distantly, needy before the main act, even though there’s hardly an excuse for his gratuitous desire to see this all through.

Now that his legs are numb ( _his crotch certainly isn’t_ ), crossing them over isn’t a bad plan, though it momentarily ceases the flow of their rhythm. Yeosang’s a bit dazed, can’t believe he’s already eaten that much because he’s still too hungry for the carton to remain unfinished, and when he glances down at himself it’s as if time ceases because _holy fuck it’s already showing._ Softly, gently, he drags fingertips across the raven-black fabric concealing the flesh beneath. He’s tentative now, afraid that a simple shift in the wrong direction will be the causation of them discontinuing, but that’s alright, he’ll be fine, they just need to roll across the cobblestone bridge of whether this is right or not for what they had in mind. The younger is still fascinated by how incredibly such an unsuspecting organ can stretch, and without a word, lips part for another bite of delectable dessert as Seonghwa scrambles to shove aside the curtains of his enraptured stupor to give him what he wants.

Bite by bite, spoonful after sugar-packed spoonful, the pint is nearly finished when a sound dissimilar to those before ripples through Yeosang’s swelling belly. A burp—small and stifled, definitely not meant to draw attention—surfaces from the back of his throat, and he clamps a hand over his mouth to mute the sound, clearly embarrassed as his complexion blooms with a shade equivalent to that of blended scarlet and offset lace at the bottom of the carton. “Sorry…” he says, speaking into his palm, slightly afraid of removing the barrier in case another pocket of air rises.

Apologizing is the exact opposite, however, of what Seonghwa wants him to do.

“Don’t.” Two words in exchange are enough, ice cream forgotten, set aside while his touch glides upward, treasuring the moment, perching just above the place Yeosang should be begging for. “It means you’re eating well.” And beneath that is lust, thick as whipping cream, unrestrained as he wishes they could be now instead of later. He splays his fingers across the small bump, curling in, spreading again, a smirk spreading outward like the view is more fantastic than anything he’s ever seen. Seonghwa chews his lip to avoid a grin, enjoying the way his lover gasps, nails barely scraping as sealed petals form an imperfect circle just to exhale instead of speak.

“I-it’s a lot…” he breathes, almost jerking his hips before realizing it won’t do any good. They both swore they’d tear every piece of clothing off when he declared it over, and not a second sooner. Yeosang groans when the elder presses down, gentle as ever, relishing the way his hand covers a mostly-full stomach that will expand beyond its natural capacity in time. It’s clearly visible, bloated just a bit, but up close it’s Seonghwa that can’t help himself, eyes glazed as he imagines stuffing the other even more, even _bigger_ , to the extent where his belly can hardly be contained by the button of his jeans alone or the zipper just beneath it. Another press, and he rubs his thumb across the thin fabric keeping warm flesh from his now-freezing hands. “Ah— _hyung._ ”

“Such a good boy for me, Sangie.” He takes up the spoon once more, slotting the ice cream between crossed legs, mostly-melted treat swirling a beautiful shade of pink at the bottom of its carton. Yeosang whines at the loss of chilly fingers massaging his belly, nearly a petulant child deprived of an embrace from their mother. “You can eat one more bite, can’t you?” There’s no time for the answer, because by the time he lifts the final spoon to his lips, it’s swallowed without a single noise of complaint. 

Looking far away, as if the distance lies in a world beyond the walls, Yeosang doesn’t speak as his drive to finish ties a natural, tightly-wound bow. “Done…” he murmurs, even though that’s nowhere near true. His hand reaches out for Seonghwa, and the elder hurries to lie beside him, empty container and utensil nearly knocked from their place on the nightstand by the unnecessary urgency of his movements.

Petting bleach-light strands from damp temples, Seonghwa’s hand wanders, a mind of its own as he rubs gently at Yeosang’s stomach, protruding only a little, still mostly firm though it’s got a little give already. _He’ll be softer if we keep going,_ he thinks to himself, and the image of feeding the younger boy what’s left—the liquids that will make his tiny bump bloat much, _much_ bigger—makes that familiar warmth stir again, in both his chest and between his legs. With a second of even greater courage, muscles grow taut as he leans down, mouthing at the fabric with no intention other than to hear pretty mewls from the back of his lover’s throat.

Shivering beneath his hyung, Yeosang practically _keens_ , already sensitive to each brush of Seonghwa’s lips over his belly, digging fingers into the sheets as he tries to arch his back for more touch, more friction, more of anything that will make him plead and beg beneath his hyung. “ _Oh, fuck…_ ” he whispers, sealing his lips when a moan fights its way up from his throat, only managing to bring it up as the barest hint of a whine.

“So needy tonight,” he hears Seonghwa murmur, and the smirk he wears when hooded eyes connect with his would be infuriating if he wasn’t so out of breath. 

“Screw you and your double standards.”

“Actually, that’ll be my job to you in a bit.” A chaste peck to Yeosang’s cheek melts all faux irritation like the ice cream sitting heavy in his guts, and he lifts a hand to grasp Seonghwa’s hair, pulling him in for a rougher, more demanding kiss, tongue swirling soon as he locks their mouths together. It doesn’t matter that he can’t lean up—he’ll make his boyfriend be the one to crane his neck while he nips at his lower lip, teeth bumping from the greedy manner in which both are determined to taste the backs of each other’s tongues. Hips jerk upward to meet those hovering above his own, but strong fingers dig into one, pressing down firmly, and he’s unable to find any strength to fight back. He doesn’t let go until his lungs start burning, and even then, he can’t stand how much longer he’s going to wait until his dick is enveloped by the heat of Seonghwa’s mouth.

Almost tempted to rut up against thin air, Yeosang finally allows hushed footsteps to retreat, registering only the weight beside him and a welcome hand tracing his thigh when fine lashes flutter back. “You ready?” is the only inquiry he ever wants to hear.

A spoken challenge, to him, hasn’t ever been honored as the way to back down. “I’m always ready,” he answers, focusing all his energy into taking the only bottle of banana milk from his partner, emptying it in less than five swallows, not once pulling back for breath. As the rich liquid slides down his throat, Seonghwa marvels at the sight, on autopilot as he takes the empty plastic in one hand, enamored with the way his stomach is filling out already. There’s five more bottles, delectable strawberry instead of classic banana; he wonders if Yeosang really can manage all that, before quickly handing over the second drink. 

A crinkle from the plastic seal, and his belly is growing _very_ noticeably now, air slipping in beside the milk. He gulps it down, a hand rising to rest on his midsection as the third drink is shoved at him without a moment of delay. With each gulp, Seonghwa can feel himself hardening again, watching wide-eyed as Yeosang hiccups, holding a hand to his mouth as the fourth bottle is discarded into the extra bag. His belly fucking _ripples_ , once and then twice as he jostles again. Seonghwa can hear the contents sloshing around his stomach from here, and if his now-doubled bloat isn’t hot enough, the groan he releases afterward is enough to make him almost come right there in his pants. “ _God_ …” Both hands are holding his huge belly, and he’s suddenly got the urge to tug up the fabric hiding such a beautiful tummy, reveal softened flesh, melt away the pressure building in his guts. “It’s so _heavy_ , Hwa…”

He doesn’t have to wait long for his wish; Yeosang pushes up the tank top all the way to his ribs, and it takes no time for Seonghwa to unscrew one of the final two bottles with fumbling fingers.

Still coaxing what he’s eaten to sit a little easier inside of him, he prods and strokes the underside of his belly with one hand, a little unsteady as receives bottle number five from his boyfriend. He’s slower this time, rubbing over his growing midsection with each mouthful, and when he’s done the last is already in his palm. 

As full as Yeosang feels, he recalls the research they did together—he’s still got a little space in his engorged stomach, and with a burst of confidence, he powers through the last drink, sickeningly sweet but aiding the distension as he winces, belly steadily inflating until the last drop slips onto his tongue. 

The entire time, Seonghwa palms himself through the denim of his jeans, practically bouncing up and down from where he sits as sparkling doe eyes stay transfixed on the way Yeosang’s round belly expands from such a delicate frame. Shaky hands grasp the empty container as if it’s a lifeline, and he can’t stop from staring in disbelief at how much the younger has managed to consume.

Tummy gurgling in protest, he knows it won’t be too long before the final treat is given. Massaging circles into his stomach, muffling burps when they bubble past freezing lips, a second pair of hands joins his in a gentle rub to minimize the enormous weight sitting in his guts. “Thanks,” he mumbles, sounding nearly out of his head already, not even finished with his promised task. “I’m sorry for being so slow,” is the next thing he says, wincing when Seonghwa begins pressing his fingers into a very tender part of his belly.

Shocked at the declaration, he’s even more careful now to lovingly caress the visible proof of Yeosang’s hard work. “You did _amazing,_ baby,” he assures, leaning over his partner’s belly to taste the residual milk left on his taste buds. He’s not patient—that much is obvious, tongue halfway into Yeosang’s mouth the second their lips connect, pulling away too quick for pleasure to be savored just yet. “Mm…” He grins, proud of the sulky whine he earns from the kiss. “Strawberry suits you.”

The blond laughs, holding his stomach and grimacing when everything inside lurches with him. “I’m not doing this for at _least_ another three months,” he complains, sighing with relief as Seonghwa treats him to a much more effective belly rub, both hands soothing the dull ache with every circle over his flesh. “You’re still two-faced, you know.”

“Says the Gemini,” Seonghwa teases, dipping his thumb into Yeosang’s belly button for a second, drinking in the hitch in the younger’s breath with such greedy satisfaction, then running over it with his palm. He waits a second, then, hesitant even with the knowledge of their shared kink, and finally speaks again. “You’re really sexy like this.” It’s quiet, but overflowing with adoration. “I’d show you just how sexy you are to me right now, if you were ready for it.”

His cheeks flush bright hibiscus, but a mirror upon Yeosang has the same shade spilling into his ears and neck, too. “You think so…?” As if seeking approval, he clutches at the fingers stilled on his belly, fitting their hands together, resting them atop the swell as it lets out tiny gurgles in the quiet night. Seonghwa can only nod, swallowing thickly as his lover processes the answer.

“Can I show you?” 

“ _Yes._ Jesus, _please,_ yes.”

Raising both arms for his hyung, Yeosang sighs heavily when his shirt comes off, already trying to lift his hips so that Seonghwa can remove his pants next. “Hurry up,” he mumbles, letting himself be maneuvered into position at the edge of the mattress, right where the bedside lamp’s glow casts glorious light upon sharp features. “Get these off me, or I’ll tell the whole maknae line you’re worse at blowjobs than— _fuck._ ” The hand stroking him through his sweatpants is enough to shut him up, at least for the moment as they pull both those and his boxers off in one go. His tummy rumbles again, louder this time, angry at being displaced so carelessly. Holding his stomach in one hand, the other keeping himself upright, he bites back a moan when Seonghwa wraps a hand around his dick to start pumping with fervor.

“Just half an hour before they get back,” he grits out, swiping his thumb over the precome beading from the younger’s slit as he spreads both knees slightly apart, readying the stance he tends to take for this position. His free hand rises now, lips just inches away from his partner’s cock when the first aids in framing the swollen belly hanging just above him. “Can you come for me before then, Yeosangs?”

The words go straight to his erection, and his answer is a very firm _yes._

Seonghwa starts slowly, laving his tongue around the head, kitten licks teasing and edging him closer already on the path to orgasm. He’s just as good as fucking Yeosang’s mouth with his own, he remembers, as he is at sucking his cock. Both his hands squeeze around his belly, too, rubbing slowly, painfully well as he multitasks, diving further until more than half of his dick is filling those gorgeous lips. Looking down, he can hardly see past his stomach, but the image of Seonghwa he _can_ get is absolutely heavenly. Glittering irises focus only on his face, palms kneading at his tummy, mouth wrapped around his shaft as lewd, wet noises resound in the spacious hotel room. He didn’t think something so dirty could look so beautiful, and yet here they are.

To Seonghwa, however, cupping Yeosang’s belly in both palms, blowing him with suction so powerful even he’s unsure where it comes from—it couldn’t get any better than this. Not when he feels Yeosang tense up above him, trembling with a hand pressed against his stomach as if he’s holding it all in, releasing himself into Seonghwa’s mouth with a breathy, desperate cry. Ignoring the bitter taste, he swallows down every drop he can. A few make rivulets down his chin, but he couldn’t care less, sucking until Yeosang groans again, shivering as if the stimulation has brought him to climax for the second time tonight.

When his sight returns from the multicolored stars almost blacking out his vision, he laughs sleepily, the pressure in his belly not so bad as before as he grins down at Seonghwa. “You’re insatiable,” Yeosang accuses, but he’s too hopped-up on serotonin to care, kissing away the missed droplets of come from his lover’s chin before wiping the rest off with his fingers. “I fucking _love_ it.”

Seonghwa drags the younger into bed, picking up the clothes from behind him and dressing his boyfriend with the utmost care, a smirk surfacing when he runs both hands down the sides of Yeosang’s round tummy, earning him another gasp from the remaining sensitivity. “I should hope so.” One press of his mouth to a soft cheek, the second to a sharp jaw, and the third to pouting lips. “How else would I keep up with you?”

**Author's Note:**

> it might be a little unrealistic, but i’ve headcanoned for this fic that yeosang has a smaller stomach capacity before it starts to show how much he’s eaten. what i do know is that milk is very good for bloating, & that it would make sense to use dairy for good results.
> 
> also—for the milk, imagine the bottles about the size of a typical water bottle (dasani, arrowhead, etc). i like being extra ;)


End file.
